Israel Story

The war has been going on for over three months, and many of us have settled into some sort of altered routine, a "new normal." But there are hundreds of thousands of people, possibly millions, for whom nothing is normal. Hugo (Uri) Wolaj of Kibbutz Be’eri is one of them: everything about his life - his job, his friends, his family, his parenting style, everything - changed on October 7th. Uri spent more than 20 hours that day hiding with his wife and daughters in the safe room. They were evacuated to a Dead Sea hotel in the early hours of October 8th and have been there ever since. But last week he returned to Be’eri, for a rare and eerie visit to his own home.

The end song is Lo Levad ("Not Alone") by Jane Bordeaux.

Stay connected with us on Facebook, Instagram, and by signing up for our newsletter at israelstory.org/newsletter/. For more, head to our site or The Times of Israel.

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Today is the hundredth day of the war. And, though our Wartime Diaries series continues, we want to stop, mark this day and share 100 seconds of the many voices we’ve been hearing among - and around - us, since October 7th.

Stay connected with us on Facebook, Instagram, and by signing up for our newsletter at israelstory.org/newsletter/. For more, head to our site or The Times of Israel.

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Upwards of $1 billion in donations have been sent to Israel since the start of the war. For years Charlene Seidle, the Executive Vice President of the San Diego-based Leichtag Foundation, has been at the forefront of the Jewish philanthropic world. While the Leichtag Foundation supports various causes in the States and in Israel, their main local focus is bridging social and economic gaps in Jerusalem. They’ve given life to hundreds of grassroots initiatives and have created the ‘Jerusalem Model’ - a diverse network of social entrepreneurs, activists and leaders from all sectors around town - Jews, Muslims, Christians, religious, secular, etc. Since Charlene and her team have been nurturing and cultivating these relationships for so long, they were particularly well-situated to understand the needs on the ground in the immediate aftermath of October 7th.

The end song is San Diego by Elisha Banai and the Forty Thieves.

Image courtesy of the Leichtag Foundation’s Jerusalem Philanthropic Initiatives.

Stay connected with us on Facebook, Instagram, and by signing up for our newsletter at israelstory.org/newsletter/. For more, head to our site or The Times of Israel.

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

The war has brought many new people into the limelight: For nearly three months we've been hearing countless stories of casualties, hostages, survivors and family members, many of whom have entered our hearts and never left. In some cases we feel like we’ve gotten to know these unsung heroes personally. One of the first big stories of the war, in that initial crazy week after October 7th, was that of 30-year-old Sagi Golan from Herzliya - a decorated officer in an anti-terrorism unit, who was killed in action in Be’eri in the early hours of October 8th. His story made headlines because Sagi was supposed to have married his partner, Omer Ohana, two weeks later, and his death brought to the fore - once again - the matter of the army and LGBTQ rights. Though the IDF has recognized same-sex partners of fallen soldiers as being eligible for full financial and emotional support since the mid-1990s, the matter had never been enshrined in law. So in the weeks after Sagi’s death, Omer led a successful campaign to legally secure the rights of same-sex and common law partners of fallen soldiers.

The end song is Zachiti Le'ehov ("I Won The Privilege to Love") by Ivri Lider.

Stay connected with us on Facebook, Instagram, and by signing up for our newsletter at israelstory.org/newsletter/. For more, head to our site or The Times of Israel.

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

It’s a sad Christmas Eve in Jesus’ homeland. The alleyways of Jerusalem’s Old City, the streets of Nazareth, the churches of Bethlehem - all usually bustling with countless pilgrims and tourists from all over the world - are largely empty. There are no trees, no stars, no sparkling lights. Christmas has essentially been canceled, and not just as a figure of speech: Back in November, the patriarchs and heads of practically all the local Christian denominations issued a decree calling upon their flocks to forgo any public celebration of the holiday in solidarity with the victims of the war. But there is one man who simply cannot accept the idea of a Christmas-less year. And that man is Issa Kassissieh.

The end song is Santa Klaus Higiya Le'Azza ("Santa Klaus has come to Gaza") by Shir Peled.

Stay connected with us on Facebook, Instagram, and by signing up for our newsletter at israelstory.org/newsletter/. For more, head to our site or The Times of Israel.

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

More than 200,000 Israelis - from both the South and the North - have been forced to leave their homes since the start of the war. Some have relocated to hotels or kibbutzim, others have opted to move in with family or friends, or else even rent apartments in entirely new surroundings. In today's episode we get a glimpse of what that reality feels like. Shira Masami is one of nearly 30,000 residents who have left the southern city of Sderot - a city which suffered a horrendous attack on October 7 - and who are now dispersed around the country.

The end song is Maaleh Avak ("Raising Dust") by Teapacks.

Stay connected with us on Facebook, Instagram, and by signing up for our newsletter at israelstory.org/newsletter/. For more, head to our site or The Times of Israel.

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Stories are the strongest way to connect. To understand. To care.

Under normal circumstances we’d create some sort of polished appeal, but obviously these are not normal circumstances.

If what we do has been helpful, or you think it is important, please support us and share our show with friends and family.

From the bottom of our hearts, thank you.

Stay connected with us on Facebook, Instagram, and by signing up for our newsletter at israelstory.org/newsletter/. For more, head to our site or The Times of Israel.

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Since the start of the military operation in Gaza, countless reports by journalists embedded with the IDF troops have appeared in the Israeli media. But there was one eight-and-a-half minute-long TV broadcast that aired on Kan - the Israeli Public Broadcasting Corporation - that stood out. In it, Riyad Ali, a 61-year-old Druze journalist from the town of Maghar in the Galilee, accompanied soldiers from the Golani Brigade who were operating in the Zeitun neighborhood of Gaza City. He spoke to a bunch of them, including one shy officer, Yussef, who just so happened to also be Druze. It was a pretty standard interview, but at some point something unusual happened: Unsatisfied, perhaps, with the officer’s guarded answers, Riyad took the mic and launched into an on-air monologue. He spoke from the depths of his heart about the discrimination the Druze population faces and reminded viewers that the Declaration of Independence promised all Israeli citizens equal rights, irrespective of race, religion or sex. Despite the Druzes’ loyalty, he went on, and despite the fact that six Druze soldiers have been killed since the start of the war, they still feel like second class citizens. That clip went viral. Riyad’s courage to speak up surprised and touched many Israelis, who are - these days - accustomed to a more patriotic tone on the news. But when he chose, in what seemed like a spur of the moment decision, to go public with his more complex views, Riyad wasn’t only speaking as a member of the Druze minority. He was also speaking as a man who, nineteen years ago, was himself kidnapped by Hamas in Gaza.

The end song is Nus Nus ("Half-Half") by Noam Tsuriely.

Stay connected with us on Facebook, Instagram, and by signing up for our newsletter at israelstory.org/newsletter/. For more, head to our site or The Times of Israel.

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

As has been said many times in the past, identity is like an onion: There are layers of family and country, religion and political persuasions, favorite sports teams, musical preferences and on and on. But for many, such as 23-year-old Adam Ben Shabath, it is their hometown which stands at the center of it all. And now, as a result of the war, Adam's village of Neve Shalom/Wahat as-Salam - with its unique population and delicate equilibrium - is being torn at the seams. Residents are questioning long-held truths - some have shifted their views, while others continue to hold firm or have even doubled down. Adam shares his own private take on the matter.

The end song is Ahava Kazu ("Love Like This") by Amir Abu and Tzlil Shakuri.

Stay connected with us on Facebook, Instagram, and by signing up for our newsletter at israelstory.org/newsletter/. For more, head to our site or The Times of Israel.

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

As of today, more than 400 Israeli soldiers have been killed in the war. Each one of those deaths, of course, not only marks the end of a life, but also shatters a family, a community, a tribe. And that ripple effect, that communal grieving, was palpable following the death of reservist Yossi Hershkovitz, the 44-year-old Principal of the Religious Zionist Pelech School for Boys in Jerusalem, who was killed on Friday, November 10th. 

Like Yossi, his dear friend and colleague Shalom Weil, has devoted his life to education. Over the years Shalom has taught, founded schools and served as a principal. And ever since the war broke out he’s been working tirelessly to build educational frameworks for those impacted by it most - the families of victims, survivors, evacuees. We however asked him to come into the studio not to talk about his own admirable work, but rather about his soulmate, Yossi, who had replaced him as the Principal of the Pelech School for Boys.

The end song is Blues Cnaani ("Canaanite Blues") by Ehud Banai.

Stay connected with us on Facebook, Instagram, and by signing up for our newsletter at israelstory.org/newsletter/. For more, head to our site or The Times of Israel.

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.